Plain Fear: Forgiven: A Novel (28 page)

Jezebel stood on the porch, a smile touching her lips. The green shades of the Amish home were pulled down, hiding all that was inside. Yet she could feel the fear like static electricity, making her charged and alive. “I haven’t had this much fun in years.” She placed a hand on Brydon’s arm. “I must remember to thank you later.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll remind you.” Then he kicked in the door, splintering the wood as it burst open. He gave a slight bow to Jezebel, indicating she should lead and he would follow.

She stepped over the threshold into the warm confines. The air was still. Not a sound greeted her. But a young woman stood on the other side of the unadorned room. Her shoulders were squared, and her gaze solid, unafraid. She wore a plain dress and silly cap over her head as if it were the 1830s. Hatred rose inside Jezebel.
Women
like
this
still
existed?
Nothing had changed.

But this woman had backbone. She didn’t run screaming into the back of the house. She spoke with calm conviction. “You must leave.”

Jezebel smiled. “And why’s that?”

“Nothing here belongs to you.”

Jezebel turned in a slow circle, taking in the brown sofa, braided rug, and worn recliner. But she noted Brydon was not behind her, not in the doorway.
Where
had
he
gone? Had he left her?
Fuming, she whipped back around and gave a caustic laugh. “You think I would be interested in anything here?”

“Who are you?” the woman asked. “And what do you want then?”

“Well, Naomi…” Jezebel laughed, feeling more sure of herself and caring less that Brydon had left. “Yes, you are Naomi…an old-fashioned name, isn’t it? I am Jezebel, the one you should fear.” She ambled forward, unhurried, and flicked a wooden baby toy with the tip of one finger. “Where’s the baby? Is it yours?” She tilted her head and studied the woman. “Oh, not one baby, but two.”

With slow, deliberate steps, she advanced on the younger woman, who didn’t waver or crumple with fear.

“This house,” Naomi said, lifting her chin, “belongs to the Lord. It is His. Not yours. And everyone in it belongs to Him.”

“The Lord who?” Jezebel mocked.

“The Lord God Almighty,” Naomi declared in a clear, strong voice.

Jezebel recoiled, stumbling backward. Her skin felt hot as if flames licked her skin. “Oh, really? What kind of a slut are you to—”

“
I
saw
heaven
standing
open
and
there
before
me
was
a
white
horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True.
”

Jezebel shrieked and hurled a lamp at the woman. It crashed into the wall. Whirling about, she decided a better tactic might be—

But someone blocked the doorway.

The words Naomi clearly and fearlessly quoted rang in Samuel’s ears. His chest swelled with pride. She’d stood up to the foul creature. He aimed the gun at the vampire’s heart.

“You think I am afraid of you or”—Jezebel jerked her chin at the Glock—“anything else?”

“I don’t care if you are or not. But I’m betting you’re afraid to die.” He stepped into the house.

She laughed, then rushed toward one of the closed windows.

“We can help you,” Samuel said. “Come peacefully with me, and we’ll help you to live…really live.”

“You’re a fool,” she spit out. She grabbed a log from the basket of wood near the fireplace and hurled it through the window, shattering the glass. She stripped away the green shade and came face to face with Roc on the outside. Jezebel spun away.

“There’s nowhere to go now,” Samuel warned.

The vampire sneered at him. “There is nothing you can do to me.”

“Think again.”

“You are the one who is scared.” Yet, she backed away, her gaze shifting between Samuel and Roc. “I know you. Samuel Fisher and Roc Girouard. I will take care of your wife this day.” She tilted her head back as if imagining the obscene act. “And your babe. Yes, how sweet it shall be.”

Hatred contorted Roc’s features.

“Roc, don’t,” Samuel warned.

“Don’t worry,” Jezebel said, “it’s unlawful to kill a babe. It would be suicide for me to do so.” She continued taking small steps toward a doorway at the far end of the room. “I will awaken your wife though. And she will kill her own. And then—”

Roc’s gun fired.

Before Jezebel hit the floor, Roc had leapt through the window and wrapped a leather strap around the vampire’s wrist, tethering Jezebel to the china hutch. Her knees crashed into the floor first, then she fell backward, her legs at an odd angle. Roc slashed a knife across her throat and blood spurted forth.

Roc stepped out of her reach. “I’m liking these hollow points more and more.”

Samuel rushed forward and stood over Jezebel. “Where is he?”

Jezebel’s mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to take in air.

Roc and Samuel turned to Naomi, who stood frozen as if not believing all she’d witnessed.

“Where’s Levi?” Roc demanded.

She shook her head, her eyes glazed with shock, and Samuel went to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She trembled even though outwardly she appeared solid and strong. “When we knew they were here—”

“They?” Roc repeated.

She swallowed hard. “Hannah and the babies…” Her voice shook. “They’re hiding. And Levi went out.” She clutched Samuel’s arm.

“It’s okay. I’ll—”

The back door burst open and Levi rushed in, his work boots heavy on the wooden floor. Sweat poured from his face, and he carried a .22 that he used for hunting deer. “I heard a gunshot—” His gaze swung around the room until it landed on the bleeding vampire sprawled on the floor. “Where’s Hannah?”

“I’m okay,” came a voice from the hallway. Hannah came around the corner. “I was in the safe room, the one we built under the house.”

Relief washed over Levi’s face and he rushed to her side.

Naomi sagged against Samuel. “I’ll help bring the babies up.”

But Samuel stopped her. “There was another vampire here, wasn’t there?”

She nodded.

Roc and Samuel looked at each other and spoke at the same time. “Brydon.”

“But where is he now?” Levi asked.

Roc spoke first. “Rachel.”

Brydon sat brazenly on the front porch of Roc’s home.

Samuel held Roc back, placing a hand against the solid chest. “Wait.”

“Looking for your wife?” Brydon asked.

Samuel felt Roc’s muscles quivering with frustration and fear. “Wait.”

“You would think,” Brydon continued, rocking back and forth as if he had all day…or all eternity, “after you lost your first wife—”

“You know nothing about—”

“Emma? Oh sure I do. I put the puzzle pieces together once I had eyes to see.” Brydon stood slowly. “Gotta say you’re either braver than I ever imagined or the biggest fool I’ve ever met.”

“What do you want?” Samuel asked.

“The list is long and beyond your pay grade.” He laughed at his own little joke.

From the side of the house, Samuel caught sight of Joe, armed and making his way to the porch.

Brydon’s smile vanished and disdain settled in its place. “You cannot surround a vampire. I have abilities you can’t begin to fathom.”

“Enlighten us,” Roc challenged.

“You don’t have the intellect.” Without looking to his right, Brydon motioned toward Harry creeping up the other side of the house. “Come on, come on, the more the merrier. Don’t you agree?”

“If you hurt Rachel…” Roc threatened.

“Then what? What are you going to do?” He stepped sideways, one step then two. “Nothing. That’s what. You tried to kill me once before but you failed. And you’ll fail today. There’s nothing you can do. Don’t you get it yet? Oh sure, you can kill one of us…but you haven’t even scratched the surface. It’s impossible to destroy us all.”

“We have a few tricks of our own.”

Brydon laughed. “You might be able to shoot me…maybe even kill me. But you’ll never find Rachel.”

Blood drained out of Roc’s face. “What have you done with her?”

“I’m going to enjoy”—he stepped toward the door—“hearing her scream and—”

The planks beneath Brydon’s feet dropped away and he fell into the hole, which Samuel had once experienced.

A howling cry tore through the shocked silence. Roc was the first onto the porch, followed quickly by Samuel and the others. They peered into the depths, where Brydon twisted and struggled against two ropes pulling his limbs in opposite directions. Father Anthony held one rope. Father Roberto struggled with his end as Brydon jerked on the ropes and fought for freedom.

“I could use some help down here,” Father Roberto hollered up at them. “I’m not as strong as I look.”

“Trouble with having a tiger by the tail”—Joe moved first—“is they don’t tell you what to do once you have him.”

“I know what to do with him.” Father Anthony wrestled with his end of the rope.

Gun in hand, Joe jumped into the dark pit. “Just kill him.”

“No!” Roc yelled. “He knows where Rachel is. Don’t hurt him.”

The front door opened. A wide-eyed Rachel peered out from the house. “Rachel is right here. With David. We’re fine. We’re both fine.”

Roc leapt over the corner of the breakaway planks and into the arms of his wife. He held her for a long time. Samuel watched them kiss, then looked away. He rejoiced and at the same time grieved.

It took three days.

The team kept Brydon restrained. The priests took turns, back and forth, and even together, praying over him, reciting scripture, arguing with the demon, until finally Brydon released Brody. His eyes cleared once again. His features transformed. Exhausted, Brody curled on his side, his face wet with tears, and slept.

Roc stayed by his ex-partner’s side, and when Brody awoke, Roc gave him water to sip and food to eat.

They moved him to the training center and gave him a bunk. However, Roc took the cautious route to Brody’s recovery. Night and day, two guards stayed with him—always two, never just one.

“How is he now?” Samuel asked.

“He’s eating small bits of regular food and appears better.”

Together they went into the house and sat at the kitchen table. “Does he remember anything?”

“Doesn’t seem to. Said it was like he couldn’t stop himself from doing things, and was confined inside himself to a small dark place.”

Samuel went to the coffee pot, which seemed perpetually full, and poured two cups. “What now?”

“Father Anthony will help him.”

“And so will you.” Samuel set the cup in front of Roc.

Straight up and black was how Roc took it, and he sipped the steaming coffee, hissing at the temperature. When he leaned back in his chair, cup in hand, Roc asked, “What about you?”

“Me?”

“You removed your bandage.”

“Naomi took the stitches out.”

“Naomi, huh?”

Not wanting to discuss her, Samuel pulled his collar away from his neck to show Roc the puckered scar.

Roc’s brow furrowed. “I’ve seen worse.”

Samuel laughed. “Where?”

Roc shrugged. “You’re staying here?”

Samuel scooped a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. He stirred slowly. “I have no choice.”

“Sure you do.”

“Then it’s my choice to stay.”

“Good.” Roc seemed pleased.
Or
relieved?
“What about your folks back in Ohio? What will you tell them?”

Samuel’s gaze drifted toward the open window. Sheets flapped in the spring breeze. The trees and grass were greening up and buds were appearing. Ohio seemed far away. Maybe the distance had given him perspective. Maybe life had too. Still, he wasn’t sure how to answer Roc’s question. “I don’t know.”

Roc leaned forward. “I know there’s tension between you and your father. But—”

“I forgave him.” He stirred his coffee again, watching the granules of sugar rise to the surface. “Back in the hospital. I can’t explain it, but I just knew I had to. Maybe it was catching a glimpse of Jacob. He wasn’t angry at me. He was, I think, concerned. Worried. Fearful.” He shifted in his seat, and the chair creaked. “I think that’s one thing death brings you—a broader perspective, an ability to look outside of yourself, where you realize what’s important and what isn’t.

“Pop experienced things that frightened him, things he didn’t understand. And he didn’t have the luxury of talking about it or researching what happened to Jacob. If he’d talked to the bishop or ministers, he might have been shunned.” Samuel shrugged, feeling sympathy for his father in a way he never had before. “And that’s not something easily born.”

“You’re right.” Roc knew all about what Rachel had experienced being shunned. “Not to be taken lightly.”

“Exactly,” Samuel agreed. “He did what he thought was best for Mamm and me. He wanted to protect us. And I want to protect them from all of this. So I’ll tell them as little as possible.”

Roc nodded. “You’ve learned a lot.”

“I reckon I’ve got more to learn.”

“Don’t we all.” Roc smiled empathetically and sipped his coffee. “So what about Naomi?”

The question startled Samuel. “What about her?”

“She was amazing at Levi and Hannah’s. You heard her, didn’t you?”

Samuel nodded this time. “She’s very strong in her faith.”

“Yes, she is.” Roc eyed Samuel and finally said, “I thought you were interested at one time.”

Samuel felt his ears burn. “I was. Am. But I can’t ask her to leave her home, all she’s ever known, for
this
.” He gestured toward the center but realized his words might have insulted Roc.
Wasn’t that what Roc had done—bringing Rachel here?
“I’m sorry, Roc. I didn’t mean to imply…well, how did you convince Rachel to marry you?”

Roc laughed. “I didn’t. She convinced me. Maybe that’s how it will be with you and Naomi, eh?”

Samuel shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Roc’s lips flattened, and he contemplated his coffee cup for a few minutes. Then he gave Samuel the look he’d seen before—serious, uncompromising, hardened by experience. “Samuel, I’m going to tell you the truth. And you may not want to hear it.”

“I reckon I can’t stop you then.”

“You can’t protect Naomi any more than I can protect Rachel. Oh I do my damnedest. I take precautions. But I’m only a man and not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. I have to trust God to protect her and David.”

“That’s a cavalier attitude for this dangerous business.”

“No, it’s not. I realized eventually, hardheaded as I am, that I owed her the choice. I tried to make it for her. But that wasn’t fair.” He clunked his coffee mug on the table. “Have you ever considered asking Naomi what it is she wants? Or is it that you still blame yourself for Jacob’s death? Maybe you don’t think you deserve that kind of love and happiness.”